


Newton Geiszler, Who's Not (Do You Hear Me? I Mean It!) Going to Admit He Has a Thing For Hermann's Clothes

by kinkitsecretkinkitsafe



Series: High-Five for Hatesex [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clothes Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, M/M, Pre-Canon, Roughness, Shame, Verbal Humiliation, humping an inanimate object, idek, idk this probably isn't healthy, it went to greenland, its got a passport, kind of, this thing went a whole heap of places i didn't expect, use of second person in dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkitsecretkinkitsafe/pseuds/kinkitsecretkinkitsafe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt still hates Hermann's clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Newton Geiszler, Who's Not (Do You Hear Me? I Mean It!) Going to Admit He Has a Thing For Hermann's Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> Alt title: Hermann Gottlieb, Who's Not (Do You Hear Me? I Mean It!) Going to Admit He Has a Thing For Newton Geiszler
> 
> titles are riffing on Judith Viorst's Alexander books, in case that wasn't obvious.
> 
> Another stab at [this prompt](http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/2747.html?view=4797371#t4797371). Probs another miss. Team Failure rides again.

There's a relentless banging on the door to Hermann's quarters and he rolls his eyes and stands, knowing that on the other side is a tiny angry whirlwind and that some article of his clothing is going to pay the price.

"What is it, Geiszler?" Hermann says wearily as he opens the door and Newt pushes past him. 

"You've gotta stop doing this to me, man!" Newt says as he drops onto the bed to undo his boots and oh good it's a sweater vest day. "I mean, seriously, fuck you. You wanna go toe-to-toe on actual science, be my fucking guest." Newt yanks off a boot and throws it at the door. "I at least fucking _try_ to question your methodology and results. But you? Fucking personal insults? Casting aspersions on my mental health? Fuck. You." Newt lobs his other boot at the wall and it hits with a cringe-inducing thump--at least any passers-by will just think they're just fighting in here. Hermann rolls his eyes as Newt stomps over to his dresser and pulls open the drawers until he finds Hermann's stack of sweater vests and yanks one out, shaking it angrily in his direction. "You brought this on yourself."

"Really, Newton? You react the same way regardless of what I say _or_ do." Hermann says, staring down at Newt who, without his boots on, is so short Hermann could step forward and rest his chin on the top of Newt's head without stretching very far at all--he cannot say why he finds that idea appealing.

"I told you I was going to ruin your fucking wardrobe," Newt says and clambers onto the bed. He grabs a pillow and spreads the vest out on top of it. "You just keep giving me reasons to fucking follow through." Newt's glaring at him and yanking at the button on his jeans until it pops open. He tugs down the zip, still glaring angrily at Hermann, and pulls out his dick, pumping himself to hardness.

The first time Newt had done this--about a week after their ill-advised liaison in the lab--Hermann had been shocked and furious, pushing at Newt to try and stop him until they'd ended up angrily jerking each other off and Newt had gotten his three. Now, he sighs heavily and sits in his desk chair, resting his chin on his hand and watching as Newt jerks himself, splitting his attention between glaring at Hermann and staring at the sweater vest laid out before him.

"Pull your trousers down a little more--I can't see," Hermann directs, softly pinching the head of his half-hard dick in his slacks and palming himself as Newt sneers.

"This isn't about _you_ ," Newt spits but he's yanking his jeans down a little further and Hermann gives a thin-lipped smirk. "This is about _punishing_ you for being such a Gigantic Asshole."

"Of course it is," Hermann says with a snort, wheeling himself around the bed until he's directly in front of Newt. " _That's_ why you need me to watch you do it. You could do it behind my back and leave it for me to find later, but no. You _want_ me to watch. You want me to see just how much you _like_ my clothes." Hermann's smile is vicious and smug, but he's been watching this happen long enough to work out that Newt _enjoys_ the taunts--that he _likes_ Hermann rubbing his face in his shame.

"Shut up, Hermann," Newt sneers but his hand starts working his cock harder. "I _hate_ your stupid fucking clothes." 

"Keep telling yourself that." Hermann spreads his legs and undoes his trousers, toying idly with his dick as he watches Newt, who's now leaning over the vest, resting on one hand with his fingers kneading the knit compulsively. "Suck me," he says, pulling the chair as close to the edge of the bed as he can.

"Little busy right now," Newt says not dragging his eyes away from the vest.

"Fuck it," Hermann says and laughs as Newt's hips stutter and his breath catches. "You know you want to. You want to feel your prick rubbing against that soft wool while I bury myself in your throat. Admit it."

Newt whimpers and shakes his head. "No. Nuh uh," Newt says but he's staring at Hermann's dick and breathing heavy and it's not going to take much too convince him.

"Taste me, Newton," Hermann says and grips his shaft, pulling up on it slowly. "I want to feel you hot and wet on me while I watch you hump my clothes like a bitch in heat."

Newt whines and his head's dropping down but then he's surging forward and pushing his hips into the pillow with a stuttering sigh. His forehead is pressed into Hermann's thigh and Hermann can feel his breath, warm and damp, through the fabric.

"Push your jeans down," Hermann says as he yanks Newt's shirt up until he can see the bright swirling colors emblazoned across his lower back. 

Newt pushes his forehead hard into Hermann's thigh as he reaches back to shove his pants down until Hermann can see the pale, white, tattoo free globes as he rolls his hips and groans. Hermann nudges Newt's head until he rests his elbows on the edge of the bed and raises it, staring up at him slightly glassy eyed. He removes Newt's glasses and tosses them to the far end of the bed before guiding his dick to Newt's lips and sighing as he opens his mouth and sucks him in.

"Good boy," Hermann murmurs, stroking a hand over the back of Newt's head and smirking as Newt whimpers. Newt's mouth is loose and sloppy and there's a hint of teeth on the underside of Hermann's dick, but he's going at it like a man at an oasis getting his first drops of water and the obvious desperation makes Hermann smug. 

He pulls Newt's shirt up again and watches Newt's hips work, the way his thighs are spread as far as the tight jeans will let him, and the tight clench of his ass cheeks as he ruts into the pillow. Newt's back is tense and taut and the roll of muscles make the tattoos contort and flex like the kaiju are alive. Hermann stretches forward and rubs his hand down Newt's spine, pushing against the small of his back hard just to hear Newt yelp and feel it vibrate on his dick.

"I bet you've thought about this in the lab," Hermann says, massaging his fingers roughly over Newt's scalp, uncaring if the short hairs catch and tangle. "Pushing me into the sofa and then rubbing yourself off against my sweater. Insisting that you _loathe_ my attire while it pushes you higher and higher and then finding yourself unable to cum until I grab you by the hair--" Hermann follows through, tightening his grip in Newt's hair and holding him still. "--and pull your head back. You'd be so hard up for it--wanting to cum so badly you can _smell_ it." Hermann adjusts his position and rolls the chair back and forth to thrust into Newt's mouth slowly--not quite enough of a bastard to cut Newt's airway off entirely--as Newt whimpers and mewls and moves his hips faster. "You'd need me to tell you off, to tell you that I _know_ what my clothes do to you, to debase you and point out how transparent your denials are."

Hermann thrusts in silence for a while--fucking Newt's face as he feels his own orgasm building low in in his bollocks. He can feel Newt's fingers clenching and releasing on his thighs but can tell by the near blissed out expression on his face that he doesn't want this to stop and by the frantic pace of his hips that he's nearly there.

"You're close now, aren't you?" Hermann sneers and slows down enough that Newt can nod and let out a near frantic whine before he starts thrusting again. "Filthy boy. You want to make a mess over _all_ of my clothes, don't you? Leave your mark? You think that will make me throw them away? I should _wear_ them. Tell everyone that Newton Geiszler gets off on my clothes. How would you feel if the entire Shatterdome knew what you were doing right now?"

Newt's body goes stiff and he groans around Hermann's dick, hips giving a few short, hard thrusts as he cums. Hermann pulls back until just the head is resting on Newt's lips as he pants and vocalizes through his orgasm, until Newt's hips are rolling languidly in his mess and he's reflexively sucking on Hermann's dick.

Hermann tightens his grip in Newt's hair again, a sharp jolt zinging straight to his dick at Newt's sharp inhale, and holds his head in place as he pushes back in. The chair rolls back and forth as he pulls himself into Newt's mouth, staring at Newt's ass--hips rolling languidly and smearing the mess--with a curled lip. 

"Take it. Take it, Newton." Hermann looks down to watch his dick disappearing between Newt's puffy, glistening lips--his eyes are closed, eyebrows raised and eager as he sucks Hermann greedily, swelling around him and whimpering desperately. Hermann can feel everything building and after a few more thrusts mutters a quick "Now now now" and lets his head roll back on his neck as he thrusts up hard into Newt's mouth and cums with a ragged moan. 

He's staring blankly at the ceiling, aftershocks running through him, as he feels his dick slide out of Newt's mouth and Newt's head rest heavily on his thigh. He strokes a hand idly through Newt's hair as he calms down and his breathing returns too normal. 

He raises his head and looks down at Newt and there's a slight trail of cum down the side of Newt's mouth and he's staring off into space with a slightly dazed expression. Hermann jiggles his leg to get Newt's attention and raises an eyebrow. 

"Fuck, Hermann. Why do you let me keep doing this?" Newt asks, cringing with shame and hiding his face in Hermann's thigh. 

Hermann turns Newt's head and runs his finger along the side of his mouth, wiping up the smear of cum from the corner and pressing his finger against Newt's lips until he sucks it in. "Do you have your answer?"

Newt releases Hermann's finger and pulls a face at him. "You're seriously letting me destroy your fucking clothes so you can get off? Bullshit."

"You've yet to destroy anything. Noticeably." Hermann says, shrugging and unconcerned. "Soak everything in cold water and then blot with vinegar if necessary. You'd be surprised how knowledgeable message boards are on the subject."

"Are you fucking kidding me? All of this has been for _nothing_?" Newt asks, rolling on his side to look up at Hermann in dismay. Now Hermann can see the mess Newt's made of his vest--it looks like an inverted Rorschach over the top of the plaid weave of the wool--and the low rise of Newt's cum covered belly and his flaccid dick, red and slightly chafed from the friction. 

He's pretty sure he can get the stain out of the vest, it might be slightly warped in places, but he doubts anyone will notice.

"Well... there was one jacket. Apparently you shouldn't lie to dry cleaners about the type of stain." Hermann shrugs--he'd spilled ink on it to hide the mark, but he hasn't worn it since.

"Good. Your jackets are fucking _awful_." Newt flops back down, resting his head on Hermann's thigh again. "They make you look like you smell musty _and_ damp." Newt's staring straight ahead and his fingers are picking at a loose thread in Hermann's trousers and there's an unhappy frown on his face. "I should probably stop doing this."

"Because you were so thoroughly invested in forcing me to update my apparel?" Hermann says with a snort and pushes Newt's hand away before he actually manages to pull apart the seam. "It's unlike you to give up so easily."

"You want me to keep fucking up your clothes?" Newt huffs a bitter laugh. "Settle down, Hermann, I might start thinking you like me." 

"I _like_ getting the opportunity to _shut you up_ ," Hermann clenches his fingers in Newt's hair--he doesn't want this to stop, but he also doesn't want to examine _why_.

Newt stares up at him and his eyes are a little dilated and his breath comes in short pants and Hermann doesn't want to examine why he likes _that_ so much, either. He loosens his grip and Newt blinks up at him owlishly.

Newt clears his throat and shakes his head. "I guess ah, I guess it's worth it for how much it pisses you off?" He says looking up at Hermann curiously.

"Brat." Hermann shakes his head and tries to tamp down the strangely fond feeling that's begun to permeate the afterglow of these encounters.

"High-five for hatesex," Newt smirks, holding up a hand.

Hermann raises his own and presses his palm against Newt's, and if pushing his fingers between Newt's and stroking up and down the digits slowly and Newt's fingers twitching back are the only concessions they can make to admitting that they might not actually hate each other, then that's the way it will be.

"Get cleaned up and go back to your quarters," Hermann says, releasing Newt's fingers and stroking his hair one last time before pushing him away and doing up his pants. "We've got another long day tomorrow and I have laundry to do."


End file.
